


Sincerely

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, Love Letters, Post-Canon, Secret Relationship, Working things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: Duty before all else. That's what Beatrix always said. Now she must juggle her tasks alongside her feelings without others knowing she thinks more of the captain of the Pluto knights than as a mere associate.





	Sincerely

The day began far before the sun peeked out over the horizon. By the time Beatrix finished her morning patrol, merchants bustled in the distance and songbirds greeted her with delightful tunes. She never stopped to relish a breath of fresh air, let alone check the current hour. Even when the sun vanished and robbed the world of its warmth, there was still work to be finished.

The day was done when Her Majesty said it was.

Beatrix’s years as an officer might have outranked the Queen’s experience as a ruler, but Garnet consistently humbled her trusted general. In time, Garnet would flourish as a benevolent ruler. Beatrix promised that to her. It didn’t matter if it tested and strained Beatrix’s mental energy; it was for the good of Alexandria.

With her final inspections complete, Beatrix shuffled to her private quarters with a yawn. She was thankful for the rigid structure in her day-to-day tasks, but snuggling with a pillow was a welcoming thought. She closed the door to her room, hummed with a curl in her lips, and stripped from her armor and attire. Save the Queen propped against her nightstand while she slipped into a simple nightgown. Beatrix removed her eyepatch last—out of comfort than anything else—and tied her hair into a loose, low ponytail.

No matter how often she glanced her reflection in the mirror, no matter how many years passed since she was robbed of her right eye, Beatrix froze. She never fancied herself to be a gorgeous woman, at least not to the standards of the noble socialites from Treno, but moments of solitude left her mind wandering, usually to fester with toxic thoughts. She noticed the hesitation in the words and actions of peers and strangers alike. Her pragmatic tone and calloused hands were the marks of a seasoned warrior and _not_ a lady. The eyepatch cemented it forever. Simple as that.

Beatrix sighed, tucking loose strands behind her ear, then perked up. The mirror revealed an envelope sealed with wax by the door.

 _Damn this exhaustion for diminishing my vigilance by dusk,_ Beatrix mused while retrieving the lone envelope. Fingertips traced the sigil embedded into the wax—the crest of the Pluto knights—and flipped it over to discover her name scribed in thick, black ink.

A smirk adorned her lips as she retreated to her bed to open the envelope. Inside was a letter, the parchment neatly creased to match the bold penmanship. It smelled of sandalwood and vanilla; it smelled like _him_.

 

_My Dearest Beatrix,_

_It is a touch awkward to converse with you this way instead of in person, but I know our duties demand our attention first and foremost. Perhaps writing this is a waste of my time. Why write a letter when I could request an audience with you? Again, I remind myself that you are a busy woman, one who has bigger matters to attend to than my selfish needs._

_At the same time, I can hear you saying it now: I_ _’d only be wasting my time if I ignored you outright. I did at one point, did I not? Was rather foolish of me. Childish, even. I hope you think more of me than a silly man wishing to win your affection._

_To speak freely, I_ _’ve never written letters to someone before, ironic as it may be, but it is the truth. I’ve scribed orders and debriefing reports, but only because the scholars were preoccupied. And here I thought I could be a poet overnight and woo you with sweet words. However, my men thought that would be a silly idea, seeing that I am no seasoned poet._

_And no, I_ do not _blab about you to my men. They are more perceptive than I give them credit for and have the awful habit of eavesdropping. Particularly in regards to when I talk to myself. That_ _’s all._

_But if I could without fear of risking both of our positions, I wish I could scream from the highest point of Alexandria of how important you are to me. Then everyone would know the special place in my heart the General Beatrix resides within._

_Or perhaps you... wouldn_ _’t like that. In which case, I can simply cut my tongue._

_Bah, I am botching this. I want to rip it to shreds, but that would only start a vicious cycle where I start over a hundred times and never send you anything. I... only wanted to continue what started between us. It started with a letter, after all, didn_ _’t it? If this means to be the only way in which I can communicate with you, then I will write you letters every sundown if it means to remind you of what you mean to me._

_If not, then... well... I guess it_ _’ll be awkward in the throne room._

_Please sleep well, Beatrix. Not a second passes where I don_ _’t think of you._

_Adelbert_

 

Upon finishing, Beatrix’s smile almost pained her. She reread those elegant words and giggled. The mental images Steiner painted for her were beyond charming.

But her comrade and lover had a point; duty trumped their desire for one another. Though what were they to do—deny and forget their affection to each other? If it meant writing love letters beneath the stars, then so be it. Beatrix craved more than his written words; she longed to nestle into his arms after a hard day and fall asleep to the sound of his breaths and heartbeats. Maybe one day they could. Whenever that was.

Since reading the letter, Beatrix tossed and turned in bed. Her muscles begged for sleep, but her mind was alive. With a huff, Beatrix flung the covers off and retreated to her desk. She plucked out a pen to dip into her inkwell, only to hover over the fresh sheet of parchment. What would she write? How could she ever organize her chaotic thoughts into something half as elegant as the emotions thrumming in her heart? Beatrix chewed her lip, moonlight illuminating the page. The Beatrix the public spoke of wove stories of a woman who flinched at nothing and yet there she was, struggling with a simple letter.

Soldiers were never trained on the topic of love She found such a concept to be useless on a good day. Then again, Steiner loathed her for a majority of their military careers. Oh, how times changed.

Beatrix chuckled at those memories and her pen moved slowly, carefully along the page.

 

_Steiner,_

_You must know me better than I know myself at times, for your letter_ _’s timing was serendipitous. Reading your words, even the clumsiest ones, brought a smile to my face. You have quite a knack for it, if I do say so myself._

_Though I wish I could do more than write a letter. It_ _’s nighttime—just as I imagine it was night when you wrote for me—and yet all I think about are those fleeting moments we have with each other throughout the day. I may forever be branded as aloof, but I do think of you when you’re present. And when you’re not. Perhaps more of the latter, truth be told._

_It almost pains me that I cannot rush to you and jump into your arms in the broad daylight. I would love to. I can only hope you do, as well. It would bring me utter joy to be curled up with you now. Sometimes I fear that may be the only way I_ _’ll ever sleep these days._

_And I also fear I am no poet, either. I can only speak plainly and hope it suffices._

_I miss you even when you_ _’re right next to me. I miss you even when it’s been minutes since our last passing. I miss you when I fall asleep. I miss you when I wake up. I miss you when I’m alone. I miss you when I’m lost in a sea of people. And I miss you right now._

_I hope that when the night tires me out, I can drift into a vivid dream and meet you there. Is that silly of me? It feels childish. But you_ _’ve never viewed me as such. You don’t fear or loathe me. Sometimes I feel I can do no wrong in your eyes, even when I’m flawed to the bone. Please know the sentiment is mutual._

_Thank you for making me feel special. I miss you. I love you. Never forget that._

_Beatrix_

 

She completed the letter with her lavish signature and didn’t reread a single sentence out of fear of embarrassment biting her nerves until she fed the letter to a flame. Beatrix folded it with care, sealing it with a kiss instead of wax.

Come morning, she would instruct one of her soldiers to deliver it to Steiner. Morning…. A lifetime away, in a sense. Her eyes widened—another idea bloomed to life. Beatrix sprung to her feet, flung a bathrobe over her form, and exited her quarters with the letter in hand.

At the end of the long, twisting corridor was Steiner’s room. She visited it in the past a handful of times. Strictly business, of course, either in passing on a patrol route or meeting him there to discuss an agenda. Nothing more. Beatrix slowed her steps before the door and hesitated—no better than a lovesick schoolgirl confronting a long-time crush. And yet they exchanged love letters at midnight, away from prying eyes.

Smoothing the letter over in her hands, Beatrix stared at the door. No light peeked out through the cracks, nor did a single sound stirred from the other side. Steiner was no doubt fast asleep. Beatrix dropped to her knees to slide the letter underneath the door and into the room.

It was done. All that remained was to wait. Wait to see him. Wait for evening for his reply. Wait for an opportunity to do more than lavish him with words. The anticipation left her heart fluttering in the depths of her stomach.

 _I should stop dwelling on these foolish thoughts,_ she chided herself. _Anyone could be watching. We shouldn_ _’t be putting our duties on the line because our hearts pulse for something else._

Beatrix stood and scanned the hallways. Not even the patrols graced the halls. A smile graced her tired lips while she pivoted and headed for her room.

Until a door creaked open.

“Beatrix?”

The whisper of her name garnered her attention. She spun around and caught sight of Steiner in his doorway. Candlelight trickled out from his room, though not enough to illuminate his features. Her feet carried her to him and her eye absorbed the finer details blurred by the shadows. He donned a bathrobe similar to her own; to find him without his rusty armor was an odd, yet charming sight. She prayed the same could be said about her without her eyepatch.

But he never flinched at the scars or the decrepit sight; he gazed upon her as if a celestial being graced his presence. Despite his frown, a tender glow flooded Steiner’s eyes.

“What are you doing up at such an hour?” he asked through a rushed whisper.

“Same could be said about you,” Beatrix said, matching his tone.

Steiner shook his head. “You could be caught delivering this to me.” He brandished the letter at her. “You shouldn’t be playing the role of courier this late at night. It pains me to think I kept you from your beauty sleep for… for _this_.”

 _Beauty sleep_ , she mused and withheld her amusement. “Please, don’t think of it like that.” Beatrix laid her hands upon his arm. “I _wanted_ to do this. When else would I be able to?” He hesitated; it was enough to justify her point. “Don’t you worry. I won’t let us get caught.”

He tucked the letter into a pocket, leaving his free hand to close over her own. Beatrix memorized the expression on his face, a far cry from the forever stern look which lived in him eternally throughout his patrols. He only softened before _her_.

“Then I shall savor this,” he told her with a warmth that rivaled a favored fireplace in the depths of winter. “Your visit here tonight, as short as it may be, will be remembered. It honors me, Beatrix. Truly.”

Stepping into him, Beatrix brushed her lips along the corner of his mouth. “The same can be said for you. Never forget that.” And she kissed him there, reining back before she lost herself within him.

His grip tightened at her hands. Beatrix gasped, yet stilled herself as Steiner bowed his head to kiss her knuckles. So polite, so gentle. And yet there was a fire contained within those lips that Beatrix wished to dive into.

Steiner stood once more and loosened his hold on her, hands ghosting over her own until she slipped away. A hint of sadness marked his smile.

“Sleep well, Beatrix.”

She bowed back out of habit. “Sleep well, Steiner.”

She yearned to say more, even as she returned to her room. Their public duties sewed her mouth shut and held her tongue back from ever breathing life to those very words. Someone could hear. Someone could question their integrity as military officers. They were to serve the queen, not each other. They were to put their lives on the line for any reason _except_ each other.

And they would continue to do so; after the destruction and rebuild of Alexandria, surely they could balance both their duties and affections. Even if it meant a letter a night, even if it meant discovering a million ways to rewrite _I love you_.


End file.
